from The Black Mariah
Inside the horse, every
one of our valuables.
We call the act MUSCLE
DANCING outside our
bosom crew. Don’t start
the poisoned princess
act with me again. Your pins
are glistening. Your mama was
a flyer and your daddy read
guts. Your vulnerabilities: tart
seeds and your bawling
calf. It stays black
and blue no problem.
We’ve got sweet hay and body
glitter. We generate our own
lines and the babies cross-
hatch good beards. Don’t pull
that delicate
material face. Your incubation
days have turned you in
to a pig, just rolling inside
the red-eye. If you ever want
to pass for living again
you better dust off
the cathodes swallow
the tongue and make
an appearance.
Jen Tynes
